


Waylaid

by scribblemoose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Spoilers up to and including 2.07 'The Witchfinder'</p>
    </blockquote>





	Waylaid

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to and including 2.07 'The Witchfinder'

Merlin closed the door all but silently behind him, and stood for a moment with his back flat against it, forcing himself to breathe.

He'd stared death in the face and used his magic to save Gaius, to save Morgana, to defeat that disgusting, lying bastard of a witchfinder. Power and adrenaline rushed through Merlin as the fear receded, and he tingled with it from head to toe. He wanted to burst light into the sky like a million fireworks; he wanted to laugh and scream; he wanted to run full pelt down the corridor and back home and hug Gwen until she had no breath left. But somehow he contained his energy, magical and otherwise, and forced himself to walk, painfully slowly and silently, clinging to the shadows.

He made it the full length of the east wing and was checking over his shoulder for sight of an approaching guard when he bumped slap-bang into Arthur.

His heart pounded in his chest, nerves thrumming.

"Merlin? Is that you?"

Merlin blinked at him for a moment. It was gloomy in the corridor, for sure, but not dark enough for subterfuge. He couldn't get away with magic and it was far too late to hide.

"Yes, Sire. I was, um, out for a walk."

He braced himself for the derisive snort or the less-than-witty put down, but it didn't come. Instead, Arthur asked him in a rich, soft voice full of compassion and sympathy, "Are you alright?"

"No, not really," said Merlin, without thinking. Because no, he wasn't, no matter how powerful and clever he had been: Gaius still wasn't safe and there was always the dreadful, awful risk that it wouldn't work, and Gaius would die after all. And on top of that, there was magic coursing through his body like blood; it set him on fire, made everything bright and alive and possible. He was half-scared that Arthur could _see_ it. Would know what he'd done.

"Well, that's understandable," Arthur said.

Merlin had no idea what to say, so he just made a non-committal sort of humming noise.

"You should go home. Get some sleep."

"Yes. Um."

"If I can do anything," Arthur said, so, so kindly, and part of Merlin wanted to run and part of him wanted to fling his arms around Arthur's neck and sob like a child.

"Merlin," Arthur said, voice cracking. "Come in for a moment."

Only then did Merlin register that they were standing right outside Arthur's chamber.

"I should, should, um," Merlin gestured wildly down the corridor. "I don't want to trouble you."

"Nonsense." Arthur flung open his door and ushered Merlin inside. "It's no trouble. Come on."

"But..." Merlin mumbled feebly, even as he stepped over the threshold. He shook his arms a bit, as if he could shake all his excess energy and magic and worry out of his too-long sleeves.

"It's alright. Come in. Sit down. It can't be easy, sleeping there alone, especially tonight."

Merlin stood helplessly just inside the door, trying to think. The sky outside Arthur's window was inky black. He needed to get back to Gwen, to find a way to convince Uther to search Aredian's room without it seeming too obvious. But if he left now Arthur would know there was something wrong, and when the time came he'd quickly put two and two together and work out exactly what Merlin was doing sneaking around the castle corridors in the middle of the night.

It was still dark. There was time. He could even turn this to his advantage. If he could just _think_.

"I want you to know, Merlin, that you'll be properly looked after. You can live in Gaius's quarters and your job here as my manservant is secure. I'll make sure you're alright."

"You can't," Merlin said, energy channelling straight to anger. "You couldn't keep Gaius safe! The Witchfinder isn't going anywhere, you know. Once he's murdered Gaius he won't stop there, no, that'll just be the start! It'll be me next, or Morgana, and what are you going to do then?"

"That won't happen," said Arthur with absolute certainty. "Because you're not sorcerers."

Merlin swallowed hard. Okay, anger wasn't really a good way of dealing with this; anger led too easily to truth and _God_, he ached to tell Arthur the truth but not now; now really, really, most definitely wasn't the time.

So Merlin took the thing closest to honesty he knew, and flung his arms around Arthur, and kissed him.

It wasn't exactly the first time - if it had been he would probably have been dead. They'd skirted around the edges of this once or twice. A touch here, a shared glance there, the whole Ealdor thing (which seemed so unreal now) and after that the occasional not-quite-accidental grope and this really wasn't the time or the place, on reflection, and there had never been _kissing_, quite, before, at least outside of Merlin's imagination, and Arthur was pinning Merlin's hands very firmly to his sides even as he kissed him back.

The thought _Arthur's kissing me back_ did nothing to calm Merlin's energy at all: it just added a bolt of lust to the magic and adrenaline and then his brain stopped working all together.

"I understand," Arthur said generously. He was satisfyingly breathless. "A man has needs. Sometimes the distraction is healthy and...."

He tailed off and their eyes met, a long, long look and Merlin licked his lips and said, "Sire?" and then, as some modicum of self-preservation returned, added, "I'm sorry, I, um, don't know what came over me."

"It happens," said Arthur, waving one hand in vague circles. "After battle and such. Tension and emotions build up and men need to... well, you know."

Merlin didn't know, although suddenly he desperately wanted to. He wanted to know _exactly_ what happened and if it had happened to Arthur, and if so how, and who with, and when, but he managed somehow to contain himself.

Of course, all the containing of himself meant he didn't actually say anything, just stood there gaping like a landed fish, while Arthur justified whatever he thought was happening in his own head and then said, "Well. Would you like to...."

Merlin tipped his head a little to the right, frowning, desperate to understand what was going on. Arthur was a second away from shutting off, and Merlin had no idea what to do or say, his head still full of _let it work, let it work, let Gaius be safe_ and _magic, magic, magic_ and _Arthur kissed me back_ so he just tried a simple, "Yes, Sire!"

Apparently that was the right answer, because Arthur was suddenly kissing him again, and backing him towards the wall in a forceful but extremely pleasant way. Once Merlin's body met the cool stone (which oofed the breath out of him but Arthur's tongue was doing such very good things to him that he didn't care), Arthur's hand made its way very quickly to the hem of Merlin's tunic, and then just as swiftly slipped under it, and Arthur was _touching_ him, palming his side, just above the ticklish bit, thumb moving in little circles on Merlin's belly in time with the twists of his tongue in Merlin's mouth. And Merlin was very, very glad of the wall, because he was fairly certain that if it hadn't been there he would have crumpled into a useless, panting heap at Arthur's feet.

Arthur broke the kiss - which was just as well because it meant Merlin could suck huge gulps of air into his needy lungs - and rubbed his nose across Merlin's cheekbone, down to his jaw, burrowing into his neck as he licked the skin there with wet, darting stabs of his tongue. Merlin tried to find something to do with his hands; he wanted to touch and stroke and explore, but before he worked out where to start, Arthur plunged his hand down Merlin's trousers and suddenly it was taking all of Merlin's concentration to not finish things before they'd even begun.

Arthur was licking Merlin's collarbone, Arthur was stroking his belly, Arthur was settling his grip on Merlin's erection. All Merlin could do was gasp, his breath whiffling through Arthur's soft, blond hair like a breeze through a corn field, and try to control his magic, his emotions, his hormones and, most of all, his cock, which was twitching in Arthur's hand, oh _fuck_ in Arthur's _hand_.

Somewhere through the maelstrom Merlin thought he probably ought to be reciprocating, but he hadn't the foggiest idea how. His hands fluttered at Arthur's hips, uncertain, wondering if he should just do whatever Arthur was doing to him, or if he should wait his turn, or try and do something devastatingly smooth and exciting, surprising Arthur with his astonishing sexual prowess, but in reality Merlin was as good as frozen to the spot and incapable of anything except breathing (just) and rocking his hips into Arthur's fist.

It was all over far too soon. One minute he was aching and pushing and lost in the most intense physical sensation he'd ever experienced; then he was on the edge, almost like pain, tight and hard and afraid; and then he yelled out Arthur's name (stifled quickly by Arthur's hand over his mouth) and let go, and the almost-pain turned into bright, explosive pleasure. Like joy, like spring, like _magic_. For a few brilliant moments Merlin was lost in release, and it felt like heaven.

Slowly, things nudged their way back into his consciousness. Arthur was still pressed close, rubbing something hard and stiff against Merlin's hip -_oh_ \- and he was making soft, desperate noises, his face buried in Merlin's neck. His hand had stilled in Merlin's trousers, where everything was wet and sticky and so sensitive Merlin had to bite his lip to keep from yelping. He gathered what was left of his wits, and murmured, "Arthur? Can I, what, I..."

"Your hand," Arthur grunted out, "your mouth, I don't care, anything, _God_ you're so..."

The word _mouth_ echoed around Merlin's head like a bell in an empty chamber; he let his knees crumple and unlaced Arthur's trousers with fast, if trembling, fingers. Arthur's cock sprang out, long and hard and oh, so beautiful, and without a second thought Merlin opened his mouth and swallowed it whole.

As it turned out a second thought might have been handy, because Merlin hadn't considered the whole breathing thing, or the gagging thing, but Arthur was very kind and understanding. He cupped the back of Merlin's head with one broad, strong hand and said, "Steady, Merlin. It's alright. You don't have to...."

So Merlin backed off a bit and knelt there, panting, Arthur's cock hard and thick on his tongue, so warm, so incredibly warm, and smooth, and so surprisingly, amazingly _good_.

He swirled his tongue around a little, noted the flutter of Arthur's fingers in his hair, and swirled around some more. Then he closed his mouth, careful of his teeth, and gave it an experimental suck. Arthur grunted, and shoved his hand down to grip the base of his cock. He was all but quivering, thighs tense and straining, and Merlin could smell his own semen on Arthur's fingers.

Merlin sucked again, this time drawing slowly back, until only the head lay on his tongue.

And then he looked up.

Arthur's eyes went wide; his cheeks were flushed and his lips parted. He stuttered out, "God, Merlin, I," and very gently (_painfully_ gently) tugged on Merlin's hair. Merlin slid his mouth down again, and up, and down, still looking up at Arthur's face. He looked so desperate, so astonished, and Merlin wanted so, so much to see that look again. Every day. Always.

Then suddenly Arthur was trying to pull away, and Merlin's first thought was that he was doing something wrong, and his second thought was that Arthur had changed his mind, and then Arthur yelped in apology and pleasure and Merlin's mouth filled with warm wet _oh_ God _yes_.

Arthur sort of collapsed forwards, arms outstretched, bracing himself on the wall. Merlin realised that he had his arms around Arthur's thighs, that his forehead was pressed to Arthur's belly, and that actually however hot the thought and feeling of having Arthur's stuff all over his tongue might be, in reality it tasted pretty yuk. Merlin let Arthur's cock fall from his mouth, and swallowed, hard.

Then he breathed in, and Arthur's skin was warm and smelled so very good, and it felt so soft, despite the hard muscle underneath, and Merlin thought he could probably stay like that forever. The first slant of morning sun cast shadow and brilliant, brilliant light across the ridges and hollows of Arthur's stomach.

Arthur cleared his throat loudly.

Merlin looked up, blinking, mind-blank.

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Light.

Light. It was light. It was dawn, it, oh, _fuck_ it was-

Merlin scrambled none-too delicately to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, struggling to re-lace his trousers.

"Sorry. I've got to, sorry."

Arthur watched him, with an amused sort of expression on his face.

Merlin pulled himself together, _Gaius, Gaius, Gaius_, said, "Thank you, um, Sire, I have to..."

And fled.

*

The sun had made its way right around the castle and the witchfinder was dead before Merlin and Arthur were alone again. Merlin spent most of the day helping Gaius, watching Gaius, or, after Gaius yelled at him (in a kindly sort of way) that he didn't need a constant chaperone, reading in his room watching Gaius surreptitiously through a crack in the door. After dinner Gaius fell asleep in his chair; Merlin covered him with a nice warm blanket, slipped a pillow behind his head, dropped a grateful kiss to the old man's forehead, and crept from their quarters.

He picked up some food and wine from the kitchens, pausing only to answer a fraction of the concerned questions from other servants about Gaius's wellbeing, and fled upstairs to Arthur's room.

Arthur was sitting by the window, gazing out at the setting sun, lost in thought. Merlin busied himself setting things down on the table, and eventually, Arthur said, "so, how's Gaius?"

Merlin looked up and smiled. "He's better, thank you. He'll be right as rain in no time." Merlin wasn't completely sure about that, but he didn't want Arthur to worry. Not when he'd so very convincingly done the right thing.

"Good. Have you eaten?"

"Yes, thank you Sire. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Merlin raised his eyebrow, wondering, hoping, and for a second Arthur grinned at him. But then the Princely mask came back and Arthur sat down at the table and said, "No, thanks. You get back to Gaius. Please send him my regards."

Merlin felt a pang of disappointment but it faded fast. He _was_, for tonight at least, more worried about Gaius than anything else. The old man had looked so frail, so lost.

"Go," said Arthur gently. Merlin nodded his thanks and was about to leave the room when Arthur added, "but remember, Merlin, any time you need anything," and his eyebrow lifted with great meaning, "you should ask me."

Merlin's face lit up like the sunrise. "Thank you, Sire. I will."

And Merlin ran home, full of magic and excitement, and a something else that as yet he had no name for.

_~fin~_


End file.
